was eleven o'clock when we reached the cattle. Flood had dispensed
with an interpreter and had taken Quarternight and me along to do the
interpreting. The cattle were well shed and in good flesh for such an
early season of the year, and in receiving, our foreman had been
careful and had accepted only such as had strength for a long voyage.
They were the long-legged, long-horned Southern cattle, pale-colored
as a rule, possessed the running powers of a deer, and in an ordinary
walk could travel with a horse. They had about thirty vaqueros under a
corporal driving the herd, and the cattle were strung out in regular
trailing manner. We rode with them until the noon hour, when, with the
understanding that they were to bring the herd to Paso Ganado by ten
o'clock the following day, we rode for Matamoros. Lovell had other
herds to start on the trail that year, and was very anxious to cross
the cattle the following day, so as to get the weekly steamer--the
only mode of travel--which left Point Isabel for Galveston on the
first of April.

The next morning was bright and clear, with an east wind, which
insured a flood tide in the river. On first sighting the herd that
morning, we made ready to cross them as soon as they reached the
river. The wagon was moved up within a hundred yards of the ford, and
a substantial corral of ropes was stretched. Then the entire saddle
stock was driven in, so as to be at hand in case a hasty change of
mounts was required. By this time Honeyman knew the horses of each
man's mount, so all we had to do was to sing out our horse, and Billy
would have a rope on one and have him at hand before you could
unsaddle a tired one. On account of our linguistic accomplishments,
Quarternight and I were to be sent across the river to put the cattle
in and otherwise assume control. On the Mexican side there was a
single string of high brush fence on the lower side of the ford,